


Echo cont.

by Brin_brin



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brin_brin/pseuds/Brin_brin
Summary: Based on Chapter 1 by Seph Lorraine"Five years ago Ishida Yamato ran away without so much a 'good bye'. Though, one evening Taichi finds him on the street corner of his old home, and now he wants to know what made Yamato leave. (Taito, AU)"I found this fic from 2004 that was never finished past chapter 1, so I decided to finish it. Original can be found on fanfiction.net
Relationships: Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida & Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CHAPTER 1 NOT WRITTEN BY ME  
> Original can be found here:  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1873060/1/Echo

So I close my eyes  
Let the whole thing pass me by  
There is no time  
To waste, Asking why  
I'll run away with you, by my side  
I'll run away with you, by my side  
I need o let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride  
Until this echo, echo, echo, echo in my mind  
Until this echo, echo, echo, echo can subside

\- "Echo" by Trapt (2002)

-

Just a few shots, some loudly blaring rock music, hundreds of writhing bodies, and the steamy backdrop of one of Odaiba's more popular clubs was all it took. His head, throbbing furiously with the deep pounding bass of the music, and the small but vicious amounts of liquor he had consumed were taking their toll on him for the night. The massive orgy that was the club now stood behind him, separated by an entire block of silent, black-windowed buildings- thank you Sir Migraine.

The only thought in his mind was how much he could do with a cigarette.

He stood silently, lifelessly, on the deserted street corner; the orange glow from a street lantern several metres away cast it's halo of dim fluorescent lighting upon the pavement below, illuminating an eerie halo around his silhouette. His body seemed to move without consciousness, small, barely detectable movements of forward and backward motion that only he could see. It was dizzying, yet he could not bring himself to move any farther.

He really wanted a smoke.

The silence of the street outside of his raging mind was gradually ebbed by the sound of casual footfall, making its way down the sidewalk, and pausing upon the vision of the lone figure standing on the quiet street corner. It was obvious from even that half of a block away that the brooding creature beneath the street lantern was a bit tipsy- perhaps even completely drunk. The footsteps started up again, coming nearer the still figure.

The silence took over once more, this time the footsteps came closer to the standing man, and the footsteps stopped all-together. Silence.

Brown eyes narrowed inquisitively, as their owner approached the silhouetted man, "...It's you." His voice was barely a whisper.

The voice just barely reached the ears of the lonely blonde, as he continued to sway in small movements beneath the streetlight. He paused mid-thought, all of his mind's previous occupations going to hell in an instant. He blinked and finally noticed he was no-longer in the club, "Where am I?"

There was a pause, and then the brown-eyed man began to chuckle deeply, "You're on your way home, it would seem."

The silent blonde turned his icy blue eyes to gaze upon the street on which he was actually standing, indeed he was on his way home, but unfortunately- "No... I don't live here anymore." He frowned deeply, wondering why his feet had guided him here. Towards that familiar building, and that well-known apartment he had spent the majority of his youth in.

"No, you don't." The intruder agreed quietly, frowning within. His old friend had yet to even glance and acknowledge whom he was talking with.

As if on cue, the man on the street corner turned to glance at the one whom was now speaking to him, and froze. Animated brown eyes stared back at him with little less than awe from beneath a mess of tousled, frizzied, brown hair, smooth tan skin visible until his shirt-collar. He was taller, and dressed more nicely than anyone could probably ever have recalled seeing him. He wore a deep blue button-up dress-shirt and black slacks, and even more oddly, he was barefoot.

His breath hitched, "Taichi..."

The brunette smirked, "You haven't forgotten me, after all."

Silence, as blue eyes stared in what seemed to be shock at the brunette. A figure plucked straight from his past and placed before him in the present darkness of a humid July night. He was speechless.

"'Was kinda' worried ya' had. Seeing all those e-mails and postcards you sent, and all those times you called." Sarcasm. Brown eyes moved to look away, but faltered, "I'm torn between hugging you and punching you in the face, Ishida."

The blue-eyed man nodded vaguely, suddenly feeling anxious to start walking again. The dizziness was gone, the lull of a near-drunken stupor had died in its early stages. This was very unexpected- seeing the Yagami again, and it was truthfully making his thoughts a bit panicked and disorganised. He searched for words.

"I never expected to see you again..." The words clung to his releasing breath, barely audible to even himself whom had breathed them, though Taichi seemed to understand.

"I feared that, as well." The brunette nodding, his curiosity finally breaking, and he took a hesitant step forward, stepping into the glow of lamplight to examine his former best friend. And felt his breath leave him.

Ishida Yamato, leading member of the band "Wolves", was well known across most of the East. He had done countless broadcasts from studios in Japan, South Korea, and China, and had even recently begun to make a buzz in the American and European music industry. His face was easily identifiable from the thousands of posters and CD booklets that littered the rooms of teenagers and rock-fiends everywhere, but Taichi had never given those images much thought. He was well aware of the fact: they were nothing compared to the real thing.

He was certainly taller, making him about equal in height to Taichi, himself, and unbelievably thin for a man of 22. His hair was still a glowing golden colour, though longer, now, and falling handsomely across his face, almost covering his right eye. His pale skin was a sharp contrast to his black ensemble, and his eyes were still that piercing, arctic shade of blue. He was beautiful.

They stood in that awkward silence for what seemed like hours, watching each other, examining each other. As if two panthers sizing one another up for the attack. Despite that there was no hostility there, only emptiness, and thousands upon thousands of questions; Why did you leave? What's happened since I left? Where did you go? How is everyone? Why'd you come back? Is your sister well? 'Did you even miss me?'

Taichi was the first to speak, "It doesn't seem your conversational skills have made any improvement during your absence."

Shaken out of his thoughts, Yamato frowned and spoke quietly, "This isn't how I'd have wanted us to meet again."

"Well, we can't very well change that, can we?" The brunette huffed lowly, annoyance obvious in his voice. He waited for the blonde to speak again, but after a few moments it was apparent he would have to do the talking, "Look, this isn't how I would've wanted us to meet, either. I was just on my way home, and then there you were, and I guess I sort of forgot myself for a moment." He lowered his voice and began to mumble beneath his breath, "Had I known, I'd've taken a detour..."

The Ishida mentally winced, but nodded, moving his gaze off to the side, face impassive.

"Coffee, then?"

Blue eyes snapped back up, "What?"

"Shall we go for coffee, then?" Taichi rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious move in such 'casual' circumstances.

Yamato raised an eyebrow, "Well, what better have I got to do than go back to the hotel and sleep myself into a hangover tomorrow morning?"

"Is that a yes or a no?" Impatience.

The blonde did not meet Taichi's gaze, "I can't believe I'm even considering this..." There was a pause, "Sure. Why not?"

A curt nod from the other boy, whom began walking again swiftly, along the side walk, taking a right at the corner. Neither spoke a word, even after Yamato fell into step beside his former bestfriend. They walked in silence, sans the sounds of Yamato's boots and Taichi's bare feet upon the side walk.

After a few minutes, the musician's curiosity began to peak, and he found that he could not resist the question, "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

The brunette, obviously not expecting this to be the first real topic of conversation with his once best-friend after five years instantly stumbled over said feet and paused to give his old friend a peculiar stare, "What did you say?"

Shrugging off the other's baffled stare, Yamato nodded at the brown-eyed man's feet, his face blank, "I asked you why you aren't wearing any shoes."

"Well, I heard that!"

"Then why did I have to repeat it?"

Taichi stared at the musician like he had sprouted tap shoes and began to dance. Then he paused to consider his answer, "Well... Ah, Sora took them, because her shoes were uncomfortable."

There was silence and a brief pang of guilt in blue eyes before Yamato turned and continued to walk, leaving the brunette to watch after him inquisitively.

When they both finally reached the nearest cafe, they entered and sat themselves at a booth near the back wall. The place was nearly deserted, which was understandable as it was the early hours of the morning. Yamato glanced around at the carefully arranged gallery area across the room, and at the vibrant red of the walls, until he sensed a pair of eyes upon him.

Startled, Taichi nearly jumped when he realised he had been staring, frowning at the blonde, he began to ponder where to start.

"So, how are they?"

The brunette blinked, "Pardon?"

Elegant blue eyes narrowed lightly, "You heard me."

"Oh..." A deep sigh as his gaze moved to the darkened window, "Well... It depends whom exactly you're talking about."

"All of them." The blonde's voice was curt.

Taichi nodded, figuring this was pretty safe ground on which to begin; he, himself, could have thought of no other ways to start, "They're... Alright, actually. I just returned from Mimi's engagement party- some American guy, never met him before tonight, really."

There was a nod from the silent Ishida, a sign of attention and signal to continue.

"Koushiro's got himself a 'partner', as term would have it."

The blonde raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Jyou."

"Aa." Affirmative grunting. Translation: 'I should've guessed.'

Taichi chuckled, and continued, "Daisuke's in something of the same predicament."

Yamato blinked, as if to ask, 'So everybody's gay since I left?'

There was a brief moment of silence.

The blonde began to laugh out loud, closely followed by the brunette, disturbing the lady behind the counter whom had not even noticed they had come in. She came around quickly to take their orders as the two seated men continue to smirk and chuckle to themselves.

"May I take your orders?"

The men came to an abrupt stop and focused their attention on the waitress.

"I'll have a mocha-cappucino." Taichi muttered, his mirth dying away as he remembered why he was there, and whom he was the with.

"Plain, decaf. Black." Yamato added in a just as solemn tone.

The waitress looked back and forth between them, jotted down their orders, briefly dismissed them both as strange, until-  
"Oh. My. God." Her jaw fell open as she gaped at the blonde sitting in the booth before her.  
"Oh. My. God." She dropped her pen and began to breath very loudly, her eyes as wide as saucers,  
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! ...ohmygod. Are you Ishida Yamato!?"

Blue eyes glanced up at her and the blonde frowned, "No. I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."

She paused and began to examine him harder, "Gods... That's peculiar. You really look just like him! Do you listen to Wolves? I just got their latest CD! It's fab! You look sooo much-"

"Ahem." The brunette cleared his throat noisily, sending a pointed glare at the waitress before she could realize the Ishida was about to throw a fist full of sugar packets at her. She squeeked and scampered off like a good little rodent, and Taichi turned back to Yamato...

Whom was resting his forehead against the table's surface in shame.

After a moment the blonde straightened up and turned his eyes back to his former best friend. Under the light of the cafe, several things were made apparent about the Ishida. He was paler than usual, almost sickly, and his eyes had darkened several shades of tired. He didn't look like he had slept in days.

"You were saying...?"

There was something distinctly different about Yamato, the brunette noticed as he stared under the cafe's bright lighting. It was almost like his very aura had changed. Whatever it was, it was more than physical, and it was drastically different than it had been five years ago when he had last seen the blonde.

Suddenly, he didn't want to speak about the others anymore. He had known Yamato had problems before the blonde had suddenly just up and run away that night, five years ago, despite not knowing the specifics of what those problems were. He was sure it had something to do with his father, and his mother as well- and being as it was both of them, Takeru was undoubtedly pulled into it (which he had carefully concluded to be accurate due to the younger boy's actions since his brother left). The first year after Yamato's disappearance had nearly driven Taichi mad with curiosity, but he had eventually realised that no one was ever going to tell him what had happened to make Yamato leave like he did.

It was strange, how he had honestly never expected to see the blonde, face to face, again.

Slowly coming out of his reprieve, the brown-eyed man looked back up at Yamato, whom was staring at him distantly, "...What are you doing here, Yamato?" He was surprised at how fluently the name just rolled from his mouth after not being spoken in five years.

Blue eyes continued to gaze at him, silent for a moment, before responding quietly, "...Band's given me some time off, for this and that..." Pale fingers tugged the edge of a sleeve down over a hand before the Ishida removed his arms from the table top. "I didn't mean to come all the way back here."

Taichi watched the other man closely, taking note of everything that had changed about him, and listening intently, "You didn't mean to come all the way back to Odaiba?"

The musician nodded, "But I was in Tokyo, and..." He sighed, "I don't know... I was out of it, and I guess I really didn't know what I was doing."

The brunette nodded for the other man to continue.

Yamato shrugged, his face was impassive, "I just followed my feet to the train station and found myself here. I went to a club for a few drinks, and... I'm not sure what I was doing until I saw you in the street."

Taichi frowned; he had been hoping for some more profound reasoning than that.

There was another uncomfortable silence.

"You never planned to come back, did you?"

The Ishida didn't respond.

The waitress hurried over and set their drinks down, and scurried back to her post, casting one last lingering glance at the blonde.

The brunette shook his head his nerves beginning to tighten, "Bastard."

When Taichi next glanced up at the musician, he found cold blue eyes staring him down narrowly. There was no anger, though, not from the blonde. It was like staring at an icicle.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." The blonde spoke quietly, finally removing his gaze, to stare out the blackened window, which really only seemed to show the reflection of the empty cafe behind them.

"Of course I wouldn't understand," Taichi bit back in a low tone, "No one around here felt the need to explain what was going on, and there certainly weren't any famous faces calling me up aid my confusion. How could I understand something I don't know?"

Yamato frowned, "No, Taichi... You wouldn't, and I wouldn't know where to begin. Or what to say."

The brunette found his anger faltering. It was true, Yamato was never very good at explaining why he did things, or what drove him to do the things he did, and their situations had always been polar opposites of one-another. Though, they could have each given it a chance, "You could've tried to explain."

The Ishida met his gaze once more.

"I could've tried to understand." He finished quietly.

The blonde appeared impassive. He closed his eyes slowly against the light of the cafe, "You're so... you." He spoke without warning.

The brown-eyed man frowned, "Pardon?"

Blue eyes reopened to the light of the room, "You're you, Taichi. It's like there's no way to describe you. I could say you are perfect, but then you'd just do something incredibly stupid, and I'd be forced to bite my tounge. Or I could say you are the perfect friend, still wanting to understand after not hearing a word from me in five years-" the blue-eyed gaze narrowed contemplatively, "-but then I realize our friendship's long been over."

Silence.

"You're a paradox," the voice was tinged with annoyance.

Taichi snorted, subconsciously acknowledging the fact that had anyone else said that- in a pleasant way, he would have blushed furiously, probably both a bit angry and proud, "You were the one who ended it, Ishida." The words were bitter in his mouth.

Frowning, the blonde nodded, "I'm not smart, Tai. I never claimed to be."

Nostalgia seemed to flood through the brunette's veins with those words; the Ishida had always been low in self-confidence, and self-pity. He had spent much of their childhood trying to cure the blonde, and though unsuccessful, he had always been sure that becoming famous would fix that problem. Apparently it hadn't.

"That's no excuse." He mumbled.

"I did what I had to do."

"Of course."

"I didn't have a way around it."

"...Right."

"Damnit, Taichi!" Yamato growled and gripped the edge of the table, he took a deep breath to resist vocalising his annoyance. He didn't really have a right to be upset, anyway. He had been the one who left.

"Don't fucking curse me, Yama." The brunette spat back, overlooking the familiar shortening of his former best friend's name, "You left. You ended our friendship. -You- could have fucking called."

The Ishida drew in a shaky breath and nodded, "I know."

Taichi bit his lip, cringing inwardly. Why did it have to feel like they were at an impasse? He didn't want to be angry at Yamato without understanding just what he was angry about. In the end, it wouldn't get either of them anywhere.

"Did you miss us?"

The blonde nodded solemnly, "I didn't want to leave, Taichi. I never wanted to leave. What I did, I did out of necessity." Blue eyes seemed to darken a shade. "I missed... almost everything."

"Almost?" It was Taichi's turn to lift an inquisitive eyebrow.

Yamato frowned and closed his eyes against the painful lights again, "Almost."

Looking at his watch, the brown-eyed man realised it was nearing 2 AM. Though, as he glanced back at the Ishida he realised that he still had so many questions and things unresolved within his mind; he couldn't risk letting the blonde just leave again, and possibly never getting his answers. He shoved down the pesky inner voice that kept insisting that he had just severely missed his best friend and wanted him back.

"It's almost two."

A nod.

Taichi sighed tiredly, "I've had a long day, so I'll be heading home."

The musician watched as the brunette stood, and then slowly stood up as well, each of them laying their pay upon the table and leaving quietly. The door closed behind them as they exited into the warm night air, and Yamato stood, glancing back down at the way from which they had come. He had a long walk back to his hotel as the trains had stopped running at eleven. In fact, if he didn't find a cab, he would probably still be walking by noon.

Turning back to his old friend one last time, the blonde frowned, "I'm sorry about everything, Taichi. Though, that doesn't really mend the situation... I'm sorry things didn't turn out better between us-"

"Where's your hotel?"

Yamato blinked at the interruption, "...Why?"

Taichi opened his mouth to say something than stopped and shook his head, "Nevermind. Come on."

"...?"

"You're staying at my place tonight." The brunette explained before spinning on his heel and heading further down the street.

"Taichi, I can't. I need to go back to-"

Turning in a split second to face the Ishida, the brown eyed boy began, "It wasn't an offer, Yamato. It was a statement. You simply are. I haven't spoken to or heard from you in nearly five years, and I'm not giving you the chance to run off without explaining, like you did last time. So come on." And he was walking again.

Yamato stood in silence for a moment before simply sighing and following his former best friend.

He really wanted a cigarette.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything from here on is my own work so if you notice a change in style and pace, that's why.

The brunette absentmindedly flexed his toes against the curb while his unexpected company stopped at a cigarette machine. He wondered when his former friend had picked up the habit but decided not to ask. 

There was little conversation between the odd pair on the walk back to Taichi's apartment. The scenery was familiar yet unwelcoming to one Yamato Ishida, like visiting your childhood home after new people move in. It was old, but new at the same time and he felt like a stranger to the iconic buildings of Odaiba. Yamato did notice that they weren't headed to the family Yagami residence he remembered though. Good. 

"So uh. You moved out then?" Yamato asked between drags of vapour nerve. The nicotine started to balance the alcohol and caffeine, creating a sensation of clarity. 

"Yeah, thought it would be a good idea to be more independent. It's still close to home, but on my school's train line." 

Yamato thought it odd for the usually flippant brunette to have the motivation to move out of home when he was attending a local university, but decided on a different comment when he considered how it might come across at hypocritical.   
"What do you study?"

"Politics."

"Sounds boring." 

The pair laughed quietly and continued to walk in silence. The returnee's head swam with thoughts of the things he'd missed. Birthdays, graduations and holidays he'd never have the chance to partake in, but the past years on the road had made him jaded to any feelings of regret. There was no use in lamenting the past, he could only look forward. And right now, forward was crossing the threshold into Taichi's 1DK apartment. 

Yamato inhaled deeply through his nose and tried to drink in the details of the apartment without being obvious. The sights and scents took him back to lazy afternoons in what was his then best friend's room. The sudden wave of nostalgia triggered a flight or freeze reflex in him, but since the apartment's occupant was between him and the door he opted to hold his breath and wait for the sudden influx of emotions to settle in the back of his chest. 

"Did you forget how to take your shoes off?"

Yamato was snapped back to reality by the dry wit of the young man behind him. The shaky guest somehow managed to remove his shoes and get beyond the entrance, fully immersing himself in what felt like a shrine to his former friend. His chest began to feel uncomfortable and he could feel the hangover setting in. He needed another drink. 

As if reading his mind, the host casually pulls out a chair at the small kitchen table, inviting his guest to sit.  
"You want a drink? I have beer or chuhai."

It took a few moments for the words to register, but the unfortunately sobering musician decided to go with the chuhai. 

The fridge door was pulled open and the sounds of some shuffling came from within, but Yamato was distracted by the layer of photos magnetically attached to the front. 

"Walking home in this city barefoot isn't nice. So if you don't mind I'm gonna have a quick shower." Taichi narrated as he passed between the apartment's DK and the other 1 room, picking up what could only be a towel and some sleeping clothes that had been carelessly strewn wherever they fell. He waited for a hum of recognition from the other before disappearing around a corner into the shower room. 

"Make yourself at home."

Home, huh?   
Yamato opened the can that had appeared in front of him and took a long sip of the sweet, cheap, alcoholic beverage.   
The instinct to flee was still simmering. He was surrounded by Taichi both literally and figuratively and he wasn't ready to face the tomorrow that this reunion would bring. But before he made it any number of steps towards the door he was again distracted by the photos littering the fridge. 

As if being controlled by a different force altogether, Yamato stood before the collage of haphazardly placed memories. There were plenty of people he didn't recognise. New friends and team mates, which stung in their own way. But then there were the people he did know. 

In particular, what looked like a recent photo of a collection of the Chosen Children caught his attention. It was a selfie taken by the occupant himself, his arm wrapped tightly around Sora's shoulder. Their faces were pushed close together and Yamato felt a brief wave of jealousy burn in his chest. Also in the scene was Koushiro and Jyou sitting side by side, which caused a different kind of jealousy. Hikari, Daisuke and Miyako were also seated around the table- was it a restaurant? Or karaoke? 

Then there was his brother. 

Having not seen so much as a photo of his sibling since he left, a lump was quickly brought to his throat. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the photo causing it to shift slightly, and the curious visitor could see another photo tucked slightly underneath. An older, more familiar photo that featured himself and his former friends in the digital world. Oddly, this seemed to stop his loud heartbeat and time itself. Keeping his fingers on the edge of the photo, the now eerily calm Yamato again read the room. 

There was an ordinary TV unit, housing a familiar looking playstation with the familiar stickers on the side. There were One Piece gacha toys sitting among other trinkets that the blonde remembered from a random Saturday at the arcade. There was manga sitting in the bookshelf, of which Yamato remembered buying volumes 3 and 4 as birthday presents. He could even spy a copy of Wolves' first single, which his then friend had all but stolen, saying he wanted the first copy. But not only that, it had seemed the odd boy had continued to buy his CDs, even the ones that had duplicate tracks. 

It wasn't just being surrounded by everything Taichi that plagued him, but the pieces of himself he could see peppered in the details. Coming to terms with this ebbed his anxiety somewhat and he took another large sip of chuhai, turning back to the photo still on the tip of his fingers. This wasn't the ideal way to run into Taichi again, no, but he could still put that discussion off if he wanted to. 

At least for today he had overcome the challenge of simply being back here. 

"Yeah I'm a bit sentimental."

The can of chuhai nearly slips to the ground. When had the shower stopped running?   
Taichi continues to rub a towel against his hair, and watches the other smile nervously and return to his seat at the table.  
"Do you still have that picture?" He asked casually, taking a drink from the fridge himself and promptly drinking almost half in a single swig. 

Yamato isn't sure.  
"Depends on what dad's done with my old room." 

"Do you still have anything from back then?"

The now fresh scented Taichi sits on the other side of the table, and Yamato briefly appreciates the faint smell of shampoo before giving a half smile, pulling his digivice from his belt and putting it heavily on the table. For a moment the two simply study each other in silence across the table. 

"Are you and Sora….", Blue eyes look just past Taichi's shoulders, only slightly gesturing towards the fridge. 

Taichi gives a genuine laugh in reply.  
"Us? No, no way." 

His grin drops to a contemplative smile. "It was hard, you know? I don't even remember the last time I saw you because we had no idea it would be the last time. It was around Christmas though. Sora was heartbroken."

Taichi sipped his drink slowly. He knew that Sora and Yamato were never officially a couple, but he couldn't say they were nothing either. Sora had certainly had feelings for their mutual friend.   
"The role of best friend opened up for both of us when you left, and we just naturally recruited each other."

Looking over the top of his own can, Taichi could see those icy eyes again asking a question without voicing it.   
"She's doing well now though. She's all but taken over her mum's business. They've expanded into other traditional goods too. But it would be a lie if I said you didn’t still come up in conversation.”

The blonde gave a curt nod in reply and Taichi was once again overwhelmed by the surrealness of seeing this face again.   
“We uh. We’ve all missed you a lot. Over the years.”

He’d been vague on the details, but the truth was that many tears were shed after the sudden departure. He and Sora had shared a particularly ugly crying session after their graduation ceremony, isolating themselves on the roof while everyone else created pleasant memories under sakura trees on the verge of blooming. The father Ishida had come to the school to pick up his son’s certificate of graduation, along with other belongings. It had been a trying time that brought Taichi and Sora closer as friends.

"Will you tell her you saw me?" the reason for so much tear shed asked.

"That's up to you."

Yamato leaves his now empty can on the table and goes to the balcony for another cigarette. Looking out over the streetlights of his home town, he calmly continued to process his situation. The fall out from his absence seemed to exceed his expectations. At the time it had felt like his only option, that the good would be greater than any hole he might leave. He had expected people to hate him, maybe even be sad, but now he was starting to get the uncomfortable sense that even after all this time, people still cared, and were still hurt by his choice. 

Thinking back, he had to wonder if this had been better than just dealing with the truth. 

An outstretched hand holding a towel entered his peripheral vision.

“It’s late, or, early. And you smell like booze and cigarettes.” 

Yamato glares at Taichi’s mischievous expression, roughly taking the towel and promptly hitting him over the head with it playfully before heading to the shower.  
The floor was still wet from his host’s and Yamato curled his toes in the cold droplets which sent a shiver up through his feet. His pale skin prickled as he turned the shower on ice cold, and for a brief moment he let his emotions flow from his eyes to mix with the water where no one could see.

It seemed his story was destined to come full circle, both beginning and ending with being in love with Yagami Taichi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia time; I lived in Japan for a few years and during that time I dated a guy who reminds me of Taichi in some ways. I modeled any details of Taichi's apartment of his.


	3. Chapter 3

A cursed beam of sunlight through the curtains threatened a migraine as Yamato risked opening an eye. Both his mouth and his head felt desperately dehydrated, and he tried to close his eyes against it all until he remembered where he was. 

He sat up dangerously sudden to distance himself from the scent of Taichi's pillow. That jerk had been so insistent that the exhausted and well traveled musician take his bed.

Yamato fished his phone from the pants he'd discarded on the floor and flipped it open to see 52 missed calls, 36 messages, and that it was just past 9am. Maybe 5 hours sleep? He plucked at the sheets and couldn't help but feel that they'd been wasted on him, even though he feels warm remembering the care with which the bed had been offered to him. 

Anxiety unexpectedly rears its ugly head, the flight reflex back in the face of the sober tomorrow he didn't yet know how to manage. He quickly changed back into the musty and worn threads of the previous evening, but still dared to inhale the bed shirt and shorts that had been kindly loaned to him, saying goodbye for now before moving to sneak out past a sleeping brunette.

Or so he'd planned.

Instead he's caught like a deer in headlights when he finds his sleeping beauty in the kitchen making coffee. 

"You're up earlier than I thought you'd be." The prince of the house comments so casually, as if nothing had ever happened between them, like it was 5 years prior and Yamato had simply stayed the night. Like they were still best friends.

"Y-yeah, jetlag. Jetlag does that." 

The pair eyed each other for a moment until Yamato's startled gaze flicked to the front door.

"I have to go." The blonde blurted out, making a line for the exit. 

A tanned arm suddenly cut across his vision, the sound of the impact against the wall reverberating in his tired and aching skull. The wild hair and thoughtful brown eyes that had been his obsession, even after all this time, were mere inches away, blocking his path, and the rise he felt in his stomach made him feel ill.

He thought he might throw up. 

"I'm not going to let you run away from me, Ishida." The use of his last name was both stern and desperate, but without anger. "I know you don't have anywhere to be right this second. Won't you at least have some painkillers and a coffee?"

Yamato swallows his nerve and the threat of bile, turning from Taichi's determined gaze to drop as gracefully as his hangover would allow into one of the kitchen chairs. 

Taichi sighed and returned to the now screeching kettle. Neither speak again until both are sitting at the table behind mugs of instant coffee. 

“What are your plans for the day?" Yamato asks as he accepts the painkillers being slid across the table, swallowing them dry. 

"I have work tonight, but otherwise…" 

The brunette looked expectantly into the tired, but mesmerizing eyes across from him. A scenario of them spending the day just hanging out together like they used to played briefly on his mind. 

"I want to try and meet up with dad. Maybe Takeru." 

"Do they know you're in town?"

The blonde shakes his head and briefly rubs his temples in an attempt to will the painkillers into action. "Come to think of it I'm not entirely sure how to reach them. Maybe I'll go by dad's office." 

"How long will you be in town?" 

"I have 2 more months off, I've been playing it by ear." 

"That's a lot" Taichi snorts.

"I have a lot of shit to sort through." 

Both give a slightly sad laugh, Taichi watches the pale pair of hands nervously rotate his coffee mug on the table.

“I thought you didn’t mean to come here?” the brunette asked quietly.

“Last night? No…. But I did come to Tokyo to try and uh, sort some things.” 

Taichi nods, feeling somewhat reassured that this wouldn't be the last he'd see of his friend for another five years. The urge to quickly forgive and forget clawed at his heart, but he still felt entitled to more from the slightly older young man before he could let himself be vulnerable. Yamato Ishida had a line of people waiting for their apology. He'd wait his turn. 

The pair finish their coffee and in a less tense fashion, Yamato again announces his leave. 

At the doorway, Taichi quickly scrawls something on a piece of paper and passes it to the leaving party. His handwriting wasn't the neatest, but the phone number and email address written were unmistakable. Yamato gives a lopsided grin and returns the gesture.

“I don’t want to have to message you first.” Taichi says sincerely, still suppressing the urge to embrace the other and never let him go. 

Yamato stands just on the other side of the threshold and the pair share an intense few moments of eye contact, both knowing they would meet again soon yet wanting to cling to this moment. 

“Feel free to tell the others you saw me." The blonde mumbles, running a hand through his currently flat and unstyled hair. "And that uh… never mind."

Yamato didn't look back as he walked toward the stairs, a pair of brown eyes watching him until the sound of his footsteps had disappeared. The apartment door clicked closed and things became eerily quiet. Back in the kitchen, Taichi flipped open his phone to tap out a short message that took entirely too long to write.

“I saw Yama. He said he misses us.”

\----

Yamato figured that in the time it would take to go back to his room in Roppingi, then return to Fuji TV in Odaiba, he would think of something to say to his now estranged father. Yet here he was, approaching the reception desk without a plan.

He might still throw up. 

While growing up as a blonde in Japan had made him used to stares, the double takes of recognition were relatively new. The star struck receptionist immediately had the musician taken where he needed to go. 

He raps on the office door just once before it flies open and he is dragged into the room by the front of his black button down shirt. Hiroaki is holding his son in one fist and a phone in the other.

"As far as this building is concerned he isn't here and never was, got it?... I swear Saito if I so much as… right, good… No this might take a while… well figure it out!" 

Hiroaki ended the call as aggressively as you could on a cordless phone, quickly turning his terrified, confused and angry eyes to the young man at the end of his reach.   
"Fucking... Christ, Yamato!" 

Perhaps part relieved and part fearful, the father let go of his son and double checked the door was locked before moving to his desk to pull out a cigarette with a haste. He leaned against the wall by the slightly ajar window, his leg shaking with stress,   
“What are you doing here?” 

“To be honest I didn’t think this far ahead.”

Yamato felt like he was walking on eggshells as he crossed the room to mirror his father's leaning posture against the wall. He wasn't taken aback by the older man's reaction, in fact, he'd expected worse. And so he didn't feel anywhere near as anxious as he thought he would in this moment. 

"Does your mother know you're here? Your brother?" The man spoke in short, charged sentences between drags of smoke. 

"I was hoping you'd help get me in touch with them." 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

Taichi of course came to mind, but the runaway decided to shake his head instead. The truth would have taken the situation in a direction neither of them were ready for. But what direction could he take this in now? 

Staring at the worn office carpet, Yamato lights his own cigarette and deeply ingests the tar and nicotine.  
"I'm sorry." He says on the exhale. 

A hand snatches the slowly burning stick and flicks it still lit out the window, leaving Yamato's long and calloused fingers poised and empty. 

"Where'd you pick up this shit?" His father seethes, and realising his own hypocrisy stubs his own dwindled cigarette out in a tray on his desk. 

The two stand in tense silence for a moment while the older's breath evened. 

"Did you uh, wanna get lunch and talk or?" Yamato suggests, distracting his gaze by picking at thread on the hem of his shirt.  
Hiroaki responds with a disbelieving laugh.

"This neighborhood is all press Yamato, I can't be seen with you out there." 

The now peppered haired father saw the flash of hurt cross his son's face. Considering the words he'd said back then, he realised his choice of words now had been poor.   
"That's not what I meant." 

Hiroaki let his head roll backwards and rest against the wall with a soft thump, feelings of regret making it hard to know what to say. 

"I, uh, was also wondering if you still had any of my old things." Yamato asks, not wanting to start an argument. 

Hiroaki nods solemnly. "Haven't touched your room since you left. Just in case you came back."

The father pushes himself from the wall and comes face to face with his son, clapping his hands on narrow, thin shoulders, squeezing them briefly before pulling Yamato into the kind of protective embrace only a parent can give.   
"I'm sorry. For how I reacted back then. God Yamato, we went to the police to get you to come back but they said they couldn't force you." 

Yamato feels his father's gruff laugh against his ear and breathes deeply, closing his eyes against the shoulder of the reporter's white business shirt.  
At least the urge to throw up had gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Sora had instantly called Taichi demanding he meet her for lunch. Except obviously it had nothing to do with lunch. 

Taichi kept up small talk between bites, his shoes from the previous evening in a plastic bag beside him, waiting for Sora to breach the subject until it became apparent the she wouldn't. Or perhaps couldn't. 

She listened intently and unemotively as Taichi gave a full recount of the past twelve hours. After he finished she simply folded her hands on the table, digesting the emotional gravity of the situation. The truth was, that Sora knew more about the Ishida’s sudden disappearance than she'd ever let on to her best friend. 

"So he didn't tell you why he left?"

"No. He said I wouldn't understand, or something like that. I drank a lot at Mimi's, so it's all a bit hazy." 

"Did you… ever hear anything about it? From anyone else?" Sora took a sip of her latte while the brunette seemed to search his memories. 

"You know they didn't Sora, Takeru has barely said more than a word to me since then. Even the time we all went to that new karaoke place, he wouldn't even look at me. His parents certainly haven't shed any light on it for us either." Taichi loudly slurped the remaining dregs of iced coffee from his cup in frustration.   
"Hikari told me once that Takeru let slip that he 'shouldn't have told mum', that's all I've ever heard." 

Taichi was suddenly angry again. How dare that enigma just stumble back into their lives, and without an explanation? He should have been more insistent on getting the full story, but he'd been scared of his estranged friend simply running away again. 

It was rare for a week to pass without him thinking about Yamato, it didn't help that he'd often see his familiar and perfectly proportioned face on magazines or in shop windows. And now he was here, the possibility of everything going back to how it was at his fingertips. He was angry, but he couldn't bring himself to show it. 

"Do you have any guesses?" Sora interrupted his train of thought.

It was a deceivingly simple question. The two of them had spent a significant amount of time asking why, but had never spent any length of time on suspicions. In all honesty, Taichi didn't want to. 

"Assumptions make an ass out of you and me, Sora." 

Sora's warm eyes were vacant with thought as she recalled a certain conversation she'd had with Takeru. She'd promised to never say anything, to let her two oldest friends figure things out on their own, but it still pained her to see the friend before her living without closure. She wouldn't repeat what she'd been told. Didn't mean she couldn't leave a trail of breadcrumbs. 

"I always thought it might have had something to do with me." 

Taichi nearly choked on his straw. "You? He's the one who up and left his girlfriend at Christmas, in what world is that your fault?" 

"I wasn't his girlfriend Taichi." Sora sighed in a resigned tone.

"Ok but as far as everyone else was concerned-"

"And that's exactly it Tai, as far as everyone else was concerned. But what about what Yamato wanted? I selfishly took advantage of the fact that he was too good of a friend to reject me."

"You couldn't be selfish if you tried Sora." Taichi sighed, poking at the ice at the bottom of his cup with his straw. He didn't like how Sora was making it seem like Yamato's departure was anything other than a selfish choice on his part. But he had to admit he'd also wondered if there was anything he could have done differently. 

"What if there was someone else? And he couldn't say anything to them, because as far as they were concerned, he was with me?" 

"He wouldn't leave over something like that…"

"Wouldn't he?"

Sora wasn't wrong. Even though Taichi didn't understand it, leaving to sort through his emotions on his own wouldn't be an out of character choice for Yamato to make.  
And Yamato had said it was something he wouldn't understand.

"Well if that's the case it must have been someone pretty important for him to leave us all behind for nearly 5 years just so he could get his head straight." Taichi mumbled, resting his head on his left hand, staring at a patch of floor next to their table. "Last night, there was so much I wanted to say but couldn't. I was scared of him leaving all over again." 

"Like what?"

Taichi flicked his eyes up at the girl across from him, eyebrows furrowed at the question.

"If you could have told him anything without fear of him running away again, what would you have said?"

Taichi felt his face grow warm. 

"I… I don't know. Just how much we missed him, how much I missed him. How important he's always been to me." 

Sora gave him a warm smile that seemed to imply she could see something that he couldn't. 

"I don't think he'll run from you if you tell him that." 

"How do you know?"

"Just a feeling." 

\---

Standing in front of the suburban apartment, Yamato could hear the sounds of crows calling at the sunset and the hum of a hundred family dinners occurring behind the closed doors around him. He was willing to bet none of them would be quite like the one he was about to attend.

His father had given him the home phone number, and after an hour or two of deciding whether to call, Yamato decided to reach out to his mother. Of course, she hadn't recognised his voice and dropped the receiver when he informed her that she was in fact speaking with her son. Once the initial shock had passed, she pleaded for him to come over for dinner with her and Takeru. 

And now he was.

He took a deep breath and rapped on the door three times, unaware that the people behind it were equally as apprehensive. When the door creaks open, Yamato is surprised by how little his mother has changed. For some reason he struggles to say a simple hello, opening his mouth to speak but no sound coming out.

Tears began to well in Nancy's eyes.  
"Oh Yamato…" She breathes out before dragging her son into a motherly embrace. The son accepts the gesture, but cannot help but wonder where such affection was when he was growing up. 

The loud caws of some passing crows cuts through the moment and Nancy ushers her son inside, prompting him to take a seat at the dinner table while she fixes him some tea. The domesticity made the usually brooding young man uncomfortable. Not that being here would have been comfortable without it either. His eyes scanned the walls wallpapered with family photos and tries not to think too much on how he can only see himself once. Takeru was featured numerous times, always smiling enthusiastically, the very vision of a perfect child.

"You're actually here..."

Speak of the devil.

The younger brother enters the room and regards him with disbelieving eyes, making the older feel forced to break eye contact. Takeru had changed as much as Nancy hadn't. His voice was deeper, his hair cut a little shorter, his eyes more knowing. He'd clearly matured a lot. 

The other brother takes a seat opposite him, lowering his head to try and look up into Yamato's dropped gaze. 

"Yeah. Yeah I'm here." 

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" 

There was a slight edge to Takeru's words, but not enough for the question to come across overtly aggressive. 

"Takeru, let's not interrogate him."   
Nancy says kindly, bringing tea for her children before returning to the kitchen to continue dinner.

Yamato looks down at his distorted reflection in the tea cup before looking up to again meet his brother's expectant gaze. 

"I don't have anything to say really. Just that I'm sorry, I guess. Sorry if I made you guys worry." 

Takeru laughs to himself and shakes his head.  
"The worry didn't last long to be honest. The frustration though, that's been a stickler." 

Yamato leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. When did his brother turn into a smart ass? 

"I can't promise that part will change, but I am trying to set a few things straight." 

Takeru raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by their mother re-entering the room announcing dinner.   
She seemed oddly determined to ignore the elephant in the room and continue with life as if her son had never left them, though she did eagerly update him on news from the rest of the family and seemed most interested in the musician's career. In a way, Yamato appreciated it. 

After dinner Yamato helped with the dishes and before he knew it, it was time to head back to the train station. Nancy's soft and thoughtful expression didn't change, but her tone suddenly became serious.

"When will we see you next?" 

Yamato scratched the back of his head, again feeling guilty that the hurt he had caused still seemed so raw.

"I'm not sure, but soon. I promise." 

His mother gave a lopsided smile that said she had doubts. 

"I do, I promise I'll be in touch from now on."

He scribbled his details on the back of a receipt he'd fished from his pocket and held the creased piece of paper out to his brother. Takeru eyed the outstretched hand apprehensively before taking the paper and slipping it in his jeans pocket.  
"I'll walk you to the station." 

The sound of crows was now replaced by the white noise of cicadas. The two walked side by side with their hands on their pockets until Takeru breached the silence between them.

"You still love him don't you? That's why you're back, right?" 

Yamato's breath stuck in his throat and his stomach sank. Unable to speak, he simply gave a sharp nod in reply. 

Takeru gave a genuine laugh, nudging his brother's shoulder. 

"Good to know that mum and I were an afterthought." 

"Takeru it's not like-"

"I'm kidding! Lighten up will you?" 

Smart ass. 

Yamato sighed, having found his voice again. 

"Did you tell any of the others? About… why I left?" 

"Just Sora. I thought she deserved to know." 

Yamato wrestles with the idea of Sora knowing how he felt, though he couldn't disagree that she deserved to know. He couldn't be angry at Takeru for talking to her. All of this could have been avoided if he'd just been willing to do that in the first place. He started to pity himself thinking about how simple it all could have been. 

"When are you going to see him?" Takeru asked.

"I already have, I actually stayed at his apartment last night." 

Seeing the younger boy's wide eyes showed that a little more context was needed, and so the older brother gave a quick summary of the last 24 hours. 

"So you've talked to him but you haven't… talked to him."

Yamato again gave a small head tilt in reply.

"And you still feel the same way?"

Yamato tilted his head back to look up into the light polluted Tokyo sky, only the bravest stars visible in the night.   
"Yeah." 

"When are you going to tell him?"

Yamato shrugged. He'd helped write and sing many songs about love but the truth of the matter was he struggled with the subject. It was much easier to sing those words before a faceless crowd and thinking about saying them to a certain brunette spiked his heart rate. 

"Taichi mentioned that Koushiro and Jyou started dating."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, it's been about a year I think." Takeru replied, his voice containing some confusion at the sudden change of subject.

"How'd that come about?"

"I think they were working closely together on some project related to the digital world, Jyou had broken up with his old high school girlfriend because he realised he just… wasn't that way you know? Anyway, I think one day Koushiro asked him out for coffee and the rest is history."  
Takeru folded his hands behind his head as he casually told the rather mundane tale of how his friends became a couple. He looked over at his brother, but was unable to catch his eye as his face was mostly hidden by strategically placed hair. Though he did catch that Yamato seemed to be wearing a sad smile.

"That's really unfair." 

"Unfair?"

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been a fan of Nancy being painted as cruel or abusive mother just because it seems her relationship with Yamato is a bit more tense, but if you like that narrative then imagine away.
> 
> Also, Christmas is similar to Valentine's Day in Japan - it's not necessarily a family holiday, it's a thing some couples do to be cute. If they have kids, that might involve having a tree and presents from Santa-san, but for most couples it's about going on a cute date and eating KFC and shortcake. Just something to keep in mind.


	5. Chapter 5

The following day Yamato stood in the middle of his childhood apartment, thoughts ticking to the sound of the clock on the wall. His dad had told him where the spare key was so he could come by at any point to sort through some of his old things. Or, just come by in general. 

Nothing had changed really. The apartment was still small, the table still old and the apron still pink. It felt surreal, which is probably the only reason he was able to stand in this room without succumbing to his emotions. Muscle memory allowed him to push open the door to his old room.

A layer of dust had settled on every surface, giving the scene a sepia hue. His breath stopped for a moment when he saw his harmonica sitting on his bed in the exact location it had been dropped 4 years, 7 months and 10 days prior. 

"It's nearly Christmas." 

It was after school on a cool December afternoon, and Takeru had come over for no other reason than to spend time with his sibling. However his current statement seemed to go ignored as his company continued to play an idle tune on his favourite instrument.  
"Yamato?" 

The older boy lowered the instrument and looked at his brother cooly.

"Yeah, so?"

"I bet Sora is making a cake for you. Are you two going to do anything?" 

Yamato dropped his gaze and moved to lift the harmonica back to his lips when it was snatched and dropped on the bed by his daring younger brother. 

"What’s been with you lately? You can be really cold you know Yamato, I don't why she hasn't broken up with you yet."

"You can't break up when you're not together, Takeru." 

Yamato stood and moved to leave his room, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. The teenager had long struggled with bouts of depression and anxiety, but particularly of late for...various reasons. Usually visits from his brother were a respite from the complex emotions, him bringing them up now felt like a strange kind of betrayal.

Plus he had to get dinner started.

"What do you mean not together? Don't you like her?"

"Of course I like her, just, not in that way."

Blue eyes met blue for a moment before Yamato turned back to the kitchen, unhooking the pink apron from the wall. The more curious sibling narrowed his eyes at the others back.

"Are you sure?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm sure." Yamato was growing more tired of this conversation by the second.   
"I have to get dinner started, you should head home or mum will worry."

"Is there someone else?"

The slight look of fear that flashed across his older brother's features told Takeru that he was right. 

"Who? Does Sora know?"

"Go home Takeru."

"No, Yamato, Sora's my friend too and if you're messing around behind her-"

"No one's messing around Takeru, he doesn't even know how I feel."  
Yamato spits out so hastily it takes a moment for him to notice his Freudian slip. 

"H-he?" 

Yamato's face grew hot with a mixture of emotions- embarrassment, fear, anger. After pausing for a moment the Ishida brother returned to rummaging in the kitchen draw for utensils.   
"Go home Takeru."

"Who is it? Yama, Sora deserves to know! You can't keep leading her on like this!" 

"I don't want to hurt her."

"You think you're doing her a favour by not telling her you're in love with someone else?"

"Yes." 

"Are you insane? You'll ruin your friendship!"

Yamato angrily slammed the knife he'd just taken out on the kitchen bench, causing the other boy to jump. 

"Telling her would ruin a lot more than our friendship Takeru, don't comment on things you know nothing about!" His voice was rising along with the urge to eject his brother from the apartment himself. The pressure was intense and the stakes felt high. It was all starting to become too difficult to contain.

"That doesn't make any sense. How would it-"

"Because it's Tai!"

The admission hung in the air like a guilty verdict with only the faint ticking of the wall clock fracturing the silence. The stunned younger brother could see the older's eyes go glassy as they filled with tears of frustration.  
"Get out." The emotionally exposed boy breathed out with such soft fury it made Takeru's blood run cold. 

"Y-you still have to-"

"I said get out!" 

Yamato could still remember the desperation that had been in his voice as he ran a thumb across the harmonica, clearing it of dust before dropping it into his pocket. 

It had been a series of dominoes after that. Takeru had gone home and spoken to their mother about the fight. Who then spoke to their father. Who then came home to speak to Yamato. But it was less of a talk, and more of an ambush. 

Hiroaki had done his best, but like most people in Japan, placed an undue amount of importance on appearances and the status quo. So finding out his son was 'that way' made him feel like he'd made a mistake along the line. When he'd told Yamato he wanted him out of his sight, it was less about his feelings towards the boy and more about himself and his shattered confidence as a single father. 

At least, Yamato knew that now. At the time his young mind had taken it at face value. 

To stay would have meant being a continuing source of disappointment and heartache for his friends and family. 

Or he could release them of the burden altogether. 

At first he'd stayed in a band mate's garage, until he picked up a job at a small convenience store. He rented a sad one room apartment and slowly scraped together a life from square one. Then his band got signed, and the rest as they say was history. 

He'd never planned on returning, always telling himself everyone here would continue their lives and he would continue his. That his feelings and relationships would be easily replaced. Every week was another week of waiting for that colleague, that concert, that CD release, that TV cameo, that something, that would come along and make him forget about the people he'd left behind.

But it never came, and in typical rock star fashion Yamato had taken to indulging in the shallowest aspects of his career in hopes of filling that loneliness within himself, or at least, make him forget about it for a few hours. 

He supposed he was lucky that his self destructive spiral didn't go unnoticed by management, and the band had urged him to take a break. Even then, he didn't think this time would lead him here, back to the room where it all began. 

His father really hadn't been dramatic when he said he hadn't touched his old room. The only change was a neatly tied bundle of books and other papers on his desk that had clearly come from his old school. Yamato moved to inspect the pile, his fingers lingering on the string which held the bundle together. Long fingers traced the edges before pulling away.

What would be the point?

Instead, he pulled out his phone.

I don't want to have to message you first

The cocky brunette had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of fics love to deal with characters being outed in a heartwarming way, and I suspect that's because in real life it's nothing like that. Chapter 1 by the original author alluded to Yamato leaving due to something that had occurred within the family and to be honest this is the best I could come up with without it becoming a long winded side story. Please don't hate me if you think that Hiroaki/Nancy/Takeru wouldn't have actually responded negatively - Japan is still a very homophobic place, I had a student there go so far as to blame LGBTQI+ people for their current population crisis. Even the nicest, most progressive parents would have a moment if they found out their son had feelings for his male best friend.


	6. Chapter 6

Though this phone was reserved for 'personal' connections, Yamato had never felt there was anything personal about the numbers and addresses stored in the device. That was until very recently. 

This kind of anticipation while waiting for a reply was… new, and tired of his own frustrating company, Yamato had decided to send another message to another personal contact that he'd managed to acquire thanks to his brother.

Which had led him here, gathering his nerve all over again in front of the Takenouchi family business.   
At the shop on a Sunday afternoon, Sora was as industrious as ever.

He figured some sage words from the Crest of Love could only bode well. Anything to distract himself from the radio silence from a certain someone else. 

The wooden sliding door marked 'Closed' flew open a moment before he could knock, the scent of floral soaps and bamboo enveloping him as he was instantly pulled into a warm and friendly embrace. It was impossible to feel uncomfortable in Sora's presence, she had this relaxing aura that made even the tense and uncertain Yamato unwind and lean into the gesture.

"It's been a while… Sora." 

When the girl pulled back Yamato could see her cheeks stained with silent tears and his stomach knotted in a way that had become annoyingly familiar these past days. 

In a flurry of pleasantries and welcome, Sora whisked him into the quaint store.   
"I'm sorry that we couldn't go anywhere. When you messaged I knew I had to see you, but also you know, business as usual."

Sora gave a soft laugh, a sniff, and wiped a stray tear as she sat herself down at the shop counter beside a pile or furoshiki ready to be packaged and branded. Yamato waved off the apology, taking a stool on the opposite side of the counter. He would have admitted that he'd rather not be out in the public eye but people outside of his line of work tended to take that as an offense. 

The rhythmic movement of her hands folding and packing the decorative cloths made a nice focal point for the blonde's gaze. He'd thought of all the things he should say, but it all felt like too little too late. His old friend seemed to understand this in a way and they kept their conversation light. She told him about the business, brought him tea, and was gentle when she chided him for his inebriated and impromptu return to Odaiba. He didn't deserve her tenderness. 

"You keep checking your phone, I'm not keeping you am I?"

"Huh?"

Yamato looked down at the flip phone in his hand. He'd been hypnotised by Sora's hands and idle chit chat and had been unaware of his subconscious still willing his phone to chime.  
"Oh. No, not at all. I'm just… expecting a message." 

He looked up from his phone and caught Sore giving him a knowing look.

"He has soccer on Sundays."

"O-ok, uh, thanks." 

Yamato pushed the phone deep in his pocket and willed himself to give Sora the undivided attention she deserved. "Listen, Sora…"

"You don't have to say anything Yamato, it's ok." 

Yamato sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "You're too good to people."

Sora laughed. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I don't need to hear anything from you but I'd like you to hear some things from me." 

Yamato swallowed, again watching elegant, feminine hands working with grace and accuracy. 

"I blamed myself for a long time until Takeru told me everything. And then I blamed myself some more." She paused working for a moment to turn her full attention to the former target of her affections. "But hindsight is exactly that." 

Yamato leaned forward, folding his arms on the counter and nodded in understanding. The two of them were similar in that they were both out of time for regrets. Without Sora's work to focus on, he turned to picking at his cuticles. The slight staining on some of his fingers made him crave a cigarette. 

"I won't lie, I was hurt. But I was glad Takeru told me. Because to me it meant that you'd come back someday." 

Yamato furrowed his brow to process the cryptic sentence. He would have argued that he had no intention of coming back, but their motherly friend had a way of knowing them all better than they knew themselves. She seemed to notice the usually collected young man's confused expression and smiled warmly. 

"Even back then I could see a difference between how you looked at me and how you looked at him." 

Sora watched in amusement as colour rose in her companion's face.   
"I didn't think I could ever make up for my selfishness back then, so I decided that if ever got the chance I'd be there to root for you. Both of you." 

Yamato pressed his palms into his eyes and exhaled loudly, partially to hide the pink hue on his cheeks and partially in annoyance at someone so gentle having the audacity to call themselves selfish.  
"Thanks Sora, but there isn't a 'both of us'. I don't even know if that's something he'd want."   
He leaned forward again and looked up into Sora's welcoming auburn eyes. "I didn't come back with the hope of some kind of happily ever after." 

"I know. But don't close your mind to that possibility." 

Yamato opened his mouth to offer some kind of rebuttal, something about how this was just about cleaning up loose ends and his conscious, when he felt a notification buzz against his leg and his expression froze.   
Sora giggled.

"You gonna check that?"

\--- 

It was hot, and small, and dingy, and that’s exactly why Yamato had chosen the back alley ramen restaurant. It was neutral territory and away from prying eyes. The chef did the doubletake the musician was so used to seeing, his eyes following the blonde to the seat furthest from the door. 

When Taichi entered the innocuous ramen shop, only a single pair of blue eyes looked up to acknowledge his arrival. The brunette gave a quick wave, then seeing nothing sitting in front of his company for the afternoon, doubled back and to get two tickets from the ordering machine, handing them to the indifferent chef before pulling out his seat beside the brooding blonde. 

He was so perfectly ordinary in every way, and everything that Yamato had ever wanted. 

"I'm not late am I?" He says dropping ungracefully onto the stool, checking his wrist for a watch that wasn't there before comically turning his head, scanning the walls for a clock, “Class ran a little over because some people actually had questions at the end, who does that?”

God why was he so… himself. 

The tension started to melt from the blonde's slightly hunched shoulders, though he was still painfully aware of the chef's lingering gaze. Even after the two bowls of tonkotsu ramen were handed across, the curiosity was palpable. 

"Sora told me you went by the shop yesterday."

Yamato gave a sound of affirmation, staring down into the hot, seasonally inappropriate lunch, only raising his chopsticks to eat once the other had finished half of his own bowl in a single mouthful. 

"How was seeing her?"

"Interesting." Yamato sighed, again lowering his chopsticks. "I honestly hadn't expected her, or, anyone really to…"

"Miss you?"

Taichi looked at him sideways, finishing the sentence through a half full mouth. Yamato gave a slight smile and an unassuming shrug in return, unaware that the other was also reflecting on a conversation had with their mutual friend.

“The other night, I didn’t want to let you out of my sight until you knew exactly how much I had missed you. I wanted an explanation so badly, but I didn’t want to scare you off or anything, ya’know?”   
It was the brunette’s turn to lower his chopsticks, though it lacked a certain impact as his bowl was already empty.   
“You said you had some stuff you wanted to do first, and to be honest after you left my place I thought I’d end up hating myself for letting you slip through my fingers again. But deep down I knew I’d hear from you again sooner rather than later. So for probably the first time in my life I decided to be patient.”  
He turned himself in his seat to fully face Yamato’s profile with determination, but not excessive intensity. He’d waited his turn, and he hoped it had come.  
“I’m not going to harass you into telling me everything that happened, but I need you to hear me when I say that my life has been empty without you in it, and I hope whatever you were looking for out there was worth it.”

The dim background radio that was barely audible over the sounds of an operational restaurant chose an inopportune moment to play one of Wolves’ earlier tracks, the owner of the vocals rendered speechless now out of fear of the emotions that might spill if he opened his mouth too wide. But after clearing his throat, he decided to give it a go. 

It’s what he came here for wasn’t it?

"No. It wasn’t worth it.” A brief silence hung between them, the first chorus of the ballad hanging thickly in the air. ”By the time I realised I shouldn’t have run away I was already gone." 

Taichi sighed, appreciative that this was hard , but nonetheless dissatisfied with the vagueness of the reply.  
"But what about all this?” he gestured broadly with his chopsticks towards the speaker which continued to spill lyrics detailing a fabricated story of heartache, “Must have been a nice distraction."

The simple observation brought on a wave of self loathing that made Yamato grip his chopsticks simply so he could hold on to something. A distraction. All this time it was all the musician had wanted, something to take his mind off his past, off the constant echo of the young man next to him now. All the noise, the money, the one night stands, the fame, the lights, the partying, the fans, it had all been a vain attempt at a distraction, but it had never been enough. And he’d trade it all to go back to that moment and just be honest with himself. 

When he hears a click he thinks that maybe he’d accidentally snapped his chopsticks, until he sees the chef fumble an attempt to discreetly put away his phone.

He’d never be able to trade it all, because everything he had wasn’t worth a fraction of what he wanted. 

“Oi, you wanna delete that pal?” Taichi had stood up and leaned over the counter to call the ramen chef on his poor attempt at playing paparazzi, not noticing at first when the seat beside him emptied.  
Throwing another angry look at cook, he verged on a run to catch up with his newly re-established friend.   
“I’m not going to stop following you, Yama.”

“Good.”

Yamato lead them as fast as his pace would allow through winding back streets until his feet brought them back to the hotel he’d often used as home while in this part of the world. Neither spoke during the painfully long elevator ride to the top floor, the silence only being broken by the visitor’s awe at the suite.

“Swanky…”  
The humble and simple soccer fan basked in the expensive detail of the room, his attention only being torn back when the click of the door behind him was followed by a faint thump against the wall. 

Hand still on the handle, Yamato’s head rested against the door, his carefully crafted public persona crumbling with each breath. Taichi had never been the best at comforting others, but his instincts told him that now was a good time to shut up and listen.

“I was in France just before Tokyo you know? Our latest single has recently made the charts there.” 

He couldn’t see the confused brown eyes staring into the centre of his back and avoided their gaze as he lifted his head, wiped his nose on his sleeve and walked over to pull a bottle of something from the fridge.   
“They say Wolves is marketable there because of mum’s family. Can you imagine that? People thinking they can relate to me just because I have family in their country?”

Finding his feet, Taichi moves to lean on the kitchenette counter next to a glassy eyed Yamato. His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out to him, but he manages to redirect them to the mystery liquor bottle after the shaken musician is finished taking a long sip.

"I wonder if it might have been easier if we were less successful. Then I might have been able to build some real relationships. But everything about my life now is so shallow, it was impossible not to think about the last time I felt connected to other people."

Taichi hummed and nodded to show that he was in fact there, deciding to take a swig of the bottle himself and discovering it was Japanese whisky.   
“So then… I guess the big question is, what was so hard for you to figure out that you felt you had no choice but to leave?”

It was in fact the big question, and the answer Taichi deserved to know. Yamato felt the whisky shot begin to warm his face, causing his cheeks to prickle where tears had dried. He lifted his eyelashes to catch brown eyes in his gaze for the first time since entering the room.

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally don't like ramen, but I didn't mind ramen shops in Japan because they usually only have one or two kinds of ramen on the menu and you don't have to talk to anyone to order. They're quite anti-social places.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit saucy, but nothing R rated. None the less, if that isn't your thing proceed with caution.

Brown eyes widened and dropped their gaze, the cheeks below them flushing slightly. “W-what, me?”

Yamato tilted his head in affirmation, his lips tights but his eyes soft and desperate for understanding.

“What... about me?” 

He was doing his best to wear his heart on his sleeve, but it was summer and it seemed his sleeves were too short. He inhaled sharply before snatching the bottle from out of Taichi’s clueless grasp. 

“Why do you have to be so  _ fucking dense _ ?”

Jaw clenched, he stormed to the balcony in hopes some nicotine and maybe a little more liquid courage would help him make himself understood. The confused brunette followed a quiet two steps behind.

Taking another shot of whisky, Yamato put the bottle down on the outdoor table, but he didn’t take a seat. He leaned against the railing to look down at the noise below, slowly exhaling smoke over the city and for a brief moment he imagined being a powerful dragon instead of the cowardly human he felt he was. The hotel wasn’t in Odaiba, but he could see parts of the artificial island in the distance and his usual melancholy began to set back in. 

Or was that just whiskey? 

“I missed this place. I missed it all.”

Taichi appeared in his peripheral vision and Yamato leaned back off the railing just enough so the brown eyes could hopefully see the honesty in his face without having to make direct eye contact. 

“Almost.” The antagonistic brunette mumbled.

Yamato’s eyes narrowed just enough to indicate that he was searching his memory, slightly unsure of what this vague statement meant.

“Before, at that late night cafe, you said you missed  _ almost _ everything.” 

Putting out his cigarette, the blonde gave a small laugh, turning to face the person next to him more fully.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t miss being a screw up. I didn’t miss that look on people’s faces when I inevitably let them down or broke their heart. I haven’t been close enough to anyone since to have to see that look. So I guess I miss even that now too… Having people who care enough to be hurt by me.” 

He could see Taichi swallow, and search for some words to say. How he looked at him now was something he couldn't quite describe. It wasn't the same look of adoration the entertainer would see from his fans, it was something far deeper and more sincere than that. 

“You did hurt me. A lot.” 

Yamato shuffled about half a step closer.

“I didn’t really know what to make of how I felt about about you. So I thought the best choice was to try and let it go.” 

"And what feeling was that?" 

Taichi wasn't seeking answers now, but validation. Most people wouldn't think much on losing touch with friends from high school, and so he'd never been able to understand the deep sense of loss and longing he'd felt over the years, until some strange twist of fate had dropped that person in front of him on a warm July evening. 

_ You wouldn't understand. _

He had said. 

But now he understood, and he needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. He watched the blonde squirm under his gaze for a few silent moments, piecing together the puzzle of their mutual infatuations. 

"Do you still feel that way?" 

They finally made eye contact and the atmosphere was electric. Yamato leaned forward, and where their lips brushed was like static, and he was left breathless and hungry when Taichi pulled away. 

"Yamato, I need you to say it."

Like an addict begging for that next hit, Yamato exhaled and desperately said words he'd only uttered in lyrics. A stream of consciousness direct from his soul, voicing the depths and breadths of his love for the person he’d so stupidly tried to forget. 

He said them all as he dug his fingers into the thickest brown hair he'd ever known and closed the distance between them. 

Taichi's kiss was everything he'd imagined, and he told him as much in the sweet everythings he'd whisper when they had to pull back for air. He couldn't fully appreciate how much his body had been craving this until he felt those arms snaked around his waist, pulling him close so there was no space between them. The city air was hot, but Yamato felt shivers when he felt fingers reach up his shirt and dig possessively into the skin on his back. 

And Taichi whispered back. About that sense of loss, that longing. They could taste each other's words on their lips and even the growing tightness in their jeans wasn't enough to express how badly they wanted this. 

Eventually the pair pulled apart and it was hard to tell who exactly dragged who inside, but it was Yamato who pinned Taichi to the Egyptian cotton ladden bed with determination and hunger, kissing him deeper as he straddled his athletic frame. When Yamato rocked his hips forward, he heard such a delicious moan he bit down on the other's lower lip just to see if he could taste it. 

Taichi grabbed those lean and slightly protruding hip bones to deftly switch their positions. The pair exchanged a momentary mischievous glance before again absorbing themselves in their feverish kiss. Yamato's hands reached between them to feel Taichi's abdominal muscles before tracing his fingers along the waistband of his blue, three quarter jeans. He managed to unhook the belt without breaking their kiss and it made a satisfying sound as it was pulled free of the belt loops. He then worked towards the hem of Taichi's t-shirt, pulling it towards him so it could slip over the owner's head. 

Taichi rocked backwards, sitting up atop of Yamato's hips and looked down at the beautiful person under him as he discarded the offending shirt. He traced a line down the porcelain stomach to work at the top of black jeans. His heart beat hard and his breath was heavy, almost feeling faint with ecstasy as Yamato wriggled beneath him, propping himself up on his elbows. 

"I never thought I'd get to end up here." Yamato breathed just above a whisper, pushing himself up a bit more to catch Taichi's mouth in his again before whispering some more breathless details of how to him, the brunette was perfect.

"You give me too much credit." 

Taichi gave a wry smile and left Yamato bare beneath him with a hard tug of his waistband. 

Yamato fell back to the sheets and he had to close his eyes at the feeling of being in Taichi's hand. And though he was dizzy with hormones, his head was quiet. The constant white noise and echoes were gone. 

\--- 

This might have been the part of the movie where Yamato quit the band to live happily ever after in a 1DK, but this was the real world, and he had various contracts and other obligations to fulfill. Even without those, music and performing were his passions, and though he was indifferent to the other aspects of that career choice, he had no desire to quit the stage. 

He also didn't expect Taichi to abandon his final year of university to be a full time roadie. He had a life and a home in Odaiba and Yamato wouldn't have it any other way. It had been a productive couple of months of relationship rebuilding in Odaiba, with a few more photos taken for Taichi's fridge. 

Overall, it was nice to have a place he could call home again. A place to come back to, which he was this cold December night. 

He'd been gone for maybe a month, playing some niche music festivals in Australia, which made returning to the sharp Japanese winter air feel all the colder. Their flight had been delayed, then there was some issue with the car booking, so when he pulled up outside the apartment complex he was about 3 hours late and 300 degrees of annoyed. 

Quietly entering the ordinary apartment, Yamato allowed the scent of home to envelop him and let it melt his mood away. He put his things down in the middle of the floor and smiled warmly at the familiar scenery. Of course Taichi had planned to wait up for him, but had fallen asleep in front of the TV which now played some late night news cast. 

He crouched down and gently roused the sleeping beauty by running his hand through his hair.

"You're home." Taichi said in a tired groan, lazily throwing his arms around Yamato's neck and perhaps unfairly using him to pull himself up. 

Yamato smiled into the crook of Taichi's neck and his heart felt full when he felt soft kisses just by his ear. It would have instantly unwound any tension if he had much to carry these days, but he didn't. It had been a long time since he'd had a migraine too. 

"Yeah, finally." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for playing :)

**Author's Note:**

> Since Digimon has been around for such a long time, there is a trove of unfinished works. You see the comments on them all like 'so sad you never finished this'. My aim with this is that maybe someone who loved the start of this story can get some closure? Haha.


End file.
